


warmth | drawn to

by cain_kakushi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Domestic Discipline, Established Relationship, Figging, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Spanking, Post-Time Skip, Spanking, Ushijima Wakatoshi is a bottom, and he's also so very sweet when he subs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cain_kakushi/pseuds/cain_kakushi
Summary: "You are getting a spanking."It wasn't the first time they had talked about discipline and reinforced it since they started living together, but if it wasn't hard for Wakatoshi to pronounce these words and dish out a punishment for Kiyoomi's temper, it wasn't the same thing the other way round.WARNING:this work depicts adomestic disciplinescene including corporal punishment (in the form ofnon-sexualspanking and figging).
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	warmth | drawn to

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This scenario is supposed to be healthy and negotiated in a context in which they already explored that part of their relationship. Safe, sane, consensual and ultimately, not forced at all in the context of domestic discipline.   
> Also, I'd like to remind that this scene is completely non sexual.
> 
> The descriptions for the figging aren't particularly graphic, but I didn't dance around the concept so please be warned.

As usual, Wakatoshi was startled awake by a weight shift, then the muted drag of Kiyoomi’s slippers on the ground. He opened his eyes for a moment and yawned lightly, ready to drift to sleep again as the other went to the bathroom. 

If cohabiting lacked the peace of mind a light sleeper needed, Wakatoshi didn’t really mind it as long as the one to lay next to him was Kiyoomi. Hearing his body shift under the covers was reassuring, a gentle reminder of his presence, of that delicate warmth that would press to his side and breathe softly as if he didn’t want to make noise.

The door was left open by a crack, enough to amplify every sound: a set of dull thumps and thuds drummed their way to Wakatoshi’s ears, but then a sudden bang reminded him that it wasn’t a dream. Did something fall? He heard the bathroom door being opened with a loud shove, then Kiyoomi quickly shuffled in the corridor, his steps stopping for a couple of seconds before changing idea and rushing to shut the door.

Wakatoshi was ready to slip out of the covers and investigate, but Kiyoomi anticipated him by dragging his way in the bedroom. He closed the door with the softest click and then slowly approached the bed, making it barely dip as he sat on the edge.

He was trembling.

“Omi?” Wakatoshi called, voice still gravelly from sleep.

“Stomachache.” His boyfriend answered curtly.

“It’s not true…” Wakatoshi rubbed his eyes and got up, almost tripping on the blanket nestled at his feet. “You did not flush nor wash your hands.”

“You don’t have to get up, I’m going back-”

“I got it, don’t worry about it. Where was it?” _It_ being a bug, Wakatoshi supposed.

Kiyoomi held his voice for a second, as if he still didn’t want to bother him, or rather, as if doing so would be like admitting defeat. “The lamp in the bathroom…” He finally breathed out.

* * *

It was so big, so damn big and horrible, disgustingly threatening, with those enormous wings, bright fuzz and the sound - that buzzing noise, and the slaps it gave against the lamp…

The thought was enough to make Kiyoomi retch. He was too tense to move from his spot on the mattress so he waited in the dark, jolting at every thump that crossed the walls.

Remembering how that thing tried to latch onto him made his eyes water once again. He had heard all sorts of stories about that demonic fuzz, on how it could make you itch, on the allergies tied to it, and again, the awful image of those spread wings sent prickly shivers on his arms.

Kiyoomi took a quick sip of water from the flask resting on the nightstand before rummaging through the drawer, pleased to find a microfiber towel. He absent-mindedly wiped the chills off of his arms, as if that motion could _comfort_ him first and foremost.

He never wanted to bother his boyfriend that late at night but honestly, it was at moments like these that he was thankful for his light sleep. Wakatoshi could deal with similar monsters without batting an eye, even exorcise them with the palm of his hand if needed, so that in all the months they lived together, the flyswatter Kiyoomi had bought wasn’t used once. It was still wrapped in plastic in the utility closet because Wakatoshi was too gentle to kill the disgusting critters. 

Kiyoomi didn’t know if to admire him or be extremely repulsed by that fact.

When the hero of the night returned from his quest, Kiyoomi masked his relief by casually turning the other way. “How did that go?”

“I let it out.” He said, taking the covers in hand.

“Wait, your hands?”

“I washed them, but don't worry, I used a tissue to handle the moth.” Wakatoshi assured him with a little quirk of his lips, then tucked himself back under the blanket.

Sometimes Kiyoomi still wondered how Wakatoshi managed to put up with his fears and non-negotiable habits, but truthfully he just didn’t. His boyfriend never expressed any kind of displeasure in his ways, never tried to prove him wrong or shame him; if anything, he had been **supportive**.

Kiyoomi almost gagged at that sudden sap, but he didn’t fight Wakatoshi’s embrace under the covers. Their electric rivalry had ended years before, and what left of it was admiration, care, fondness towards that pile of clueless cells molded in the shape of a gentle man. 

Kiyoomi could still smell the fragrance of his aftershave, a subtle reminder of the smooth skin of his face. Too tired to scoot up, he was content with having his forehead nestled under Wakatoshi’s jaw.

“You aren’t going to the bathroom?”

“I’d rather not. I’ll wait until morning.”

“There weren’t other moths.”

His slender fingers gripped the blanket, trying to fight off the cringing tension biting back at him. “It’s not that." Kiyoomi shut his eyes closed, as if he could feel that heavy thumping again, the crinkle of wings, the skin-prickling buzzing. 

Wakatoshi meant well by tightening the embrace, but when his sleeve chafed against the covers, it lifted and exposed the hair of his forearm. Kiyoomi flinched in displeasure when it brushed against his collarbone.

"Wakatoshi…" he sighed, squirming under his weight. "Get the light."

It wasn’t the first time that Kiyoomi had felt uneasy after a _monster encounter_ , so Wakatoshi didn’t question his behaviour. His boyfriend wasn't one to articulate about phobias, but from his understanding, the problem wasn't just the monster of the week: the trick laid in how its presence **lingered** in the spots it touched, in the fear of eggs, in the rush of spotting the place it crawled from.

Kiyoomi feared an invasion of their peace and like many times before, Wakatoshi promised himself he would do whatever he could to keep him safe from that feeling.

"Goodnight." He whispered, detaching from the embrace to reach for the switch and turn off the lamp -

\- only to turn it back on shortly after.

  
  


"What?" Kiyoomi opened his eyes with a pout, spotting Wakatoshi blocked in that awkward position - half sitting, back arched and arm outstretched - as if the shock was too much to let him move.

"I feel like it was my fault."

Kiyoomi arched an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Wakatoshi sat upright, the blunt fingernail of his index scratching the side of his neck. "I kept the window open after I showered."

"Well yes, I do that too. That thing must have gotten in around that time, it's not your fault."

"No, I…" he strangely looked to the side, "I opened the window and got out of the bathroom."

"As usual, ten minutes of fresh air to let the steam out."

"Since eleven.”

Kiyoomi blinked. “ _Since eleven_ what?”

“I left the window open since I got out of the shower, so about eleven.”

Kiyoomi took a minute to process that fact. Sleepiness had got the best of him when he opened the door to the bathroom, yet he distinctly remembered that the first thing he saw was the moth. That could only mean… “You left the lights on too?!” 

Screw peace, there was only war in Kiyoomi's mind now.

 **What the fuck**. They had argued about that stupid airhead of his, always leaving something on by mistake, and hell - they had argued about the moths too! He knew there was a problem with that side of the apartment, it faced a park!

Opening the window was meant to be _ten minutes, check the room, then close_. It wasn't the first time an animal had breached in their house! But no, the idiot had left it open for three whole hours.

It happened in the bathroom and Kiyoomi could only hope that the disgusting creature touched the lamp and the lamp only, but what would have happened in their bedroom instead?!

That was the third retch of the night, and Wakatoshi’s obliviousness didn't help in the slightest.

“If I forgot to close the window, then I left the lights on too, yes. I was in a rush."

Kiyoomi's upper lip twitched. “ _Rush_?”

“Yes, the last set of the match was beginning.”

“Wakatoshi, let me understand, you got distracted by the _replay_ of a foreign volleyball team’s match -” He waited for the other to nod, “- and not only you left the lights on, no, you didn’t even go back to close the window.” 

Another nod. “If we conclude that moths are attracted to light then it’s my fault.”

Well no shit, Sherlock.

Wakatoshi's emotionless, neutral, no-fucks-given face was part of the problem. How could he keep that expression?! Last time he checked, Kiyoomi wasn't dating a-

He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated because he **had** to snap out of that. He didn't want to risk slapping Wakatoshi or saying questionable things, or the night would have turned even worse for no reason. 

With his eyes still closed, Kiyoomi got out of bed and dragged his feet to the door.

“Kiyoomi-”

“Time!” He blurted out in response, slamming the door after him.

Silence rang in his ears together with boiling rage. It was as if his whole nervous system wanted to riot, but a single clear thought dawned on him.

He loudly knocked on the door to catch Wakatoshi's attention again. "Stand in the corner, _then_ we'll talk." He instructed before storming off to the kitchen, in search of a pause - or alternatively, something to crush in his hands.

* * *

Wakatoshi had never been fidgety. He was able to stay put and sit still in every situation, even the most formal, because dutiful obedience was one of the first skills his mother had wanted him to master.

And yet, he still didn’t know where to keep his hands when in the corner.

He tried having them crossed behind his head, but the strain started to be too much; then, on his front; then, crossed behind his back; only when he stopped worrying about proper etiquette he let his hands fall to his sides. At that moment, he was truly left alone with his thoughts.

Wakatoshi thought in brief strings of plain facts, adding up clues and turning them into a vivid, full picture, that oftentimes did not make much sense because where words did not reach, imagination did instead. The corner let his thoughts collect and materialize in a single image.

> _A crying Kiyoomi: red nose, shoulders drooping in fear, a single tear streak sliding down, down, down until it reached his collarbone. There was panic in eyes black and quivery,_

and it was only his fault.

Wakatoshi gritted his teeth and glanced to his side for **anything** able to make that picture disappear. 

The digital clock told him that it was 2:45 am already. It had been fifteen minutes since his boyfriend left the room, and honestly, he wouldn’t have faulted Kiyoomi if he decided to leave him in a corner for the whole night.

He was the one responsible for his distress.

He was the one who caused panic and concern, and it was for his childish inattentiveness.

His fists balled up, energy ready to either snap or implode,

but Kiyoomi’s voice was quick to pull him out of that spiral. 

“Toshi?” He called, calmer, “Come out of the corner, I’m ready to talk." 

“Sorry.” One single word, enough to break the uncomfortable silence. It ringed through the room after the two sat on the bed, but it didn’t exit Wakatoshi’s lips.

Unexpectedly, it was Kiyoomi the one who apologized.

"For what?"

"I might have said some hurtful things to you."

Wakatoshi furrowed his brows. "No, you didn't."

"Oh." Kiyoomi looked genuinely impressed by that notion, considering the infinite string of curses he had devoted to his boyfriend in so little time. Not speaking them was a plus and it was progress, yes, but at the same time, it wasn’t good to think so ill of him.

Still, there was a more… _urgent_ concern to take care of. 

"About what you did…" Kiyoomi rehearsed the sentence in his head for the fifth time already. How could Wakatoshi say such things with a straight face? The raven bit the insides of his cheek, determined to not make a fool out of himself. "You are getting a spanking."

It wasn't the first time they had talked about discipline and reinforced it since they started living together, but if it wasn't hard for Wakatoshi to pronounce these words and dish out a punishment for Kiyoomi's temper, it wasn't the same thing the other way round.

Wakatoshi was never at fault. He was respectful, he cleaned up after himself, and while hardheaded, he always had the humility to apologize and learn when something went wrong. 

Even if Kiyoomi wanted to do an array of things to that handsome man, deliberately making him suffer wasn't one of these: if he truly didn't want it, be it because he was tired or because he deemed the punishment to be appropriate, Kiyoomi would have trusted Wakatoshi with that decision. 

"I don't want you to think that I'm doing it because I'm upset. It's going to be a punishment for the fact that you don't pay enough attention to your surroundings, and that I warned you countless times already. If you think that it's too much, I want you to tell me now."

All it took was a second before his boyfriend accepted his fate with a nod. "You're right. I agree." Wakatoshi raised his eyes from the floor and looked ahead of him, beyond the dresser or even the wall, straight through the sad image that had remained glued to his eyes. "I've been disrespectful of your safety and I put you in danger because of my disattention."

"Toshi,"

"It's true. I did some reflecting and I concluded that it was immature of me, so I will accept your punishment as a reminder to do better." 

"Perfect,” Kiyoomi sighed, glad to have reached an agreement so fast, “tomorrow morning-"

"Now."

There was a moment of silence - or of disbelief, to be precise. "... _now_? Why? Aren't you sleepy?"

"Not anymore. Are you?"

Well no, he wasn’t. Not that he could sleep with that yucky sensation still sitting in his body, but their neighbours surely could.

“We might have thick walls but it's almost three.” He explained, but when he caught sight of Wakatoshi’s gaze dropping to the floor, his insides twisted with uneasiness. 

Kiyoomi wasn't one to sacrifice his peace, but in his right mind, he couldn’t let his boyfriend bottle up guilt for the whole night. 

"Wakatoshi, I might have an idea, but it's my way or the highway."

* * *

Wakatoshi’s expression didn’t actually change, but Kiyoomi could still feel irk rising in the way he seemed so unimpressed by the implement before him. "That thing doesn't hurt." He shrugged, as if he wasn’t the one getting a spanking.

Kiyoomi swished the fly swatter through the air, gaining a satisfying whistle from the flexible material. "Excuse you?"

"I just know it." 

His boyfriend wasn’t being exactly defiant, but that comment was enough to reignite a little spark of irritation in Kiyoomi. "How do you know it? It was in plastic until five minutes ago."

"My mother had a similar one."

Wow, he really didn't want to unlock that piece of backstory. "Wakatoshi, I'm sure that your mother is smaller than me,"

"Well, I was smaller too when she used it to spank me."

Why would he complain about not being in enough pain?! Kiyoomi groaned in frustration and gave another swish, this time catching his hand by mistake: the milky skin reddened alarmingly fast, and he was quick to shove that evidence in front of Wakatoshi’s face. “See?”

"I'm telling you that it wouldn't be effective."

Kiyoomi was ready to start a silent argument with his eyes, but when he met the green of Wakatoshi's, understanding washed on him. "You want to cry at the end of it." He inquired, more of a statement than of a question.

His boyfriend looked taken aback for a moment, but that hint of pride was discarded immediately in favor of honesty. "It's my only request. Is it a bother?"

Kiyoomi hated crying with a passion, and would go to great lengths to not weep during a spanking. It was childish, and humiliating, and there was nothing cathartic about it; he much preferred the part when it was all over and Wakatoshi reassured him that everything was okay.

Once again, he was reminded that their needs were very different.

"It's not a bother." He tched, "I know how to make this one hurt, but you will have to trust me."

Wakatoshi nodded in a cute, bothered way. It was hard to be upset when looking down at him, and for that, Kiyoomi gently flicked his forehead to stun him. "Then rest on your stomach, legs off the bed. I'll be back in a minute." He said, laying the fly swatter on the mattress before returning to the kitchen.

Wakatoshi calmy did as instructed, but nervousness betrayed him in the way his arms trembled as his body lowered on the sheets. He **was** asking for it, yet he still didn't know how to act, or how to be on his best behavior. The only time he actually got a spanking from his lover, it wasn't for a punishment: it was more of an incentive to let out his pent-up emotions, and during it, Kiyoomi had complained about how he stifled his reactions too much.

Judging from Kiyoomi's behavior when on the receiving end, Wakatoshi really did think it was a hypocritical comment, but decided not to speak of it. After all, his boyfriend's skin was much more delicate than his, and their pain thresholds were clearly different, too.

Wakatoshi eyed the flyswatter, memorizing the little patterns in its plastic weaves. In it were engraved little flowers, a pair of butterflies too, and it was so silly looking with that neon pink colour. It was bought on clearance, obviously, and in a way he was glad to find it so different from the one at his mother's house.

Bad memories didn’t stick as he focused on inhaling the fresh, clean smell of the sheets, tracing little paths out of Kiyoomi's steps in the kitchen. He was taking quite a lot, but even if Wakatoshi tried to eye the hour, he really couldn't read it from that position - and he was too adamant about being obedient to break it.

When Kiyoomi finally came back, Wakatoshi was surprised to see that he was carrying gloves, a lotion bottle and what looked like a bowl. Really not what he expected.

"Don't look at me like that, it will make sense in a bit." Kiyoomi placed the bowl on the mattress. It was really close, but Wakatoshi didn't quite recognize what was in it.

"Drop your shorts." Kiyoomi instructed, not giving him time to ask.

As Wakatoshi complied with it by dragging his bottoms to his knees, he was startled by a dragging sound - a bin, being kicked to the bed before Kiyoomi sat at his side. What did he need that for, of all things?

"You're getting a quick warmup." His cold hand lingered faintly over Wakatoshi’s underwear, but Kiyoomi wasn't one to waste time: he snapped it down on the soft of his buttocks, firm and quick.

Wakatoshi flinched and shut his eyes, cringing at how loud the smacks sounded in the quiet of the night even with a layer to muffle them. Cotton wasn't enough to stop Kiyoomi's skilled swing, but that uncomfortable volley of spanks ceased pretty fast. They were only enough to leave a tingle over his skin. 

"Now, your underwear."

Wakatoshi repeated the motion and buried his head in his arms, ass bared for the room and for Kiyoomi, now fighting with a pair of silicone gloves that didn't want to correctly wrap around his hands. 

"Have you ever heard of figging?"

"No." And honestly, the thing in the bowl didn't smell like figs at all.

The gloves gave a satisfying snap, and Kiyoomi tipped the bowl to let Wakatoshi see its content. "This is skinned ginger root." It was translucent, roughly around the side of his finger, and it held a distinct zing to its smell. "I carved it with a knife." Kiyoomi traced the root with a thumb, letting it slide on the rounded indents around the base. 

Wakatoshi hummed in understanding, never taking his eyes off of it until Kiyoomi tipped the bowl again. "So…?"

"I'm inserting it into your anus." The other deadpanned.

"Hm." Wakatoshi didn't really catch the meaning of his words until seconds later, when he looked over his shoulder to find Kiyoomi pouring a little drop of lube over his index finger.

There wasn't any other meaning for these words columned together, was it? 

"... so, uhm… is there a reason… ?"

"It causes a burning sensation. To simplify, whatever you'd feel with the fly swatter will be ten times worse than normal." Kiyoomi patted his right asscheek. "Bring a hand here."

Wakatoshi did, letting Kiyoomi reposition him slightly so that he'd be spreading himself.

"Any objections?" The raven asked, wary of that silence.

"No, it sounds solid." Of course - Wakatoshi would agree to anything if he found the reasoning to be logical, and Kiyoomi certainly wasn't going to argue about it.

"Now, it's not much wider than my finger, but I don't want to hurt you from that. I just want you to feel the burn, so I'm lubricating you a bit." With that, he brought the lubed finger to tap around his rim. "Can I?"

"Go ahead."

Kiyoomi smeared the slick lotion around his entrance and circled it, applying the lightest pressure to poke at the hole. At that, he felt Wakatoshi tense up. "What's the matter?"

"I won't get aroused, right?"

"I don't know." He slowly pushed in, deliberately rubbing against every other wall but the bottom one, where he knew his prostate rested. "You never enjoyed pain, so I guess not."

Wakatoshi's breath was uneven from the intrusion. "Can… can we stop if I do?"

"Of course, you tell me."

"Thank you." He sighed, comforted.

When the digit sat snugly enough, the raven took it out to turn and retrieve the ginger from the bowl. Wakatoshi's flushed face was resting cozily on his crossed wrists, and Kiyoomi had to resist the urge to caress his brown hair off of his forehead. He looked cute, and his boyfriend would have paid tons of gold to know what was going on his head.

Careful, Kiyoomi brought the root to Wakatoshi’s hole and pressed. "I'm going in." He waited for him to nod before pushing slowly. The ginger was slippery enough to slide in comfortably - not enough lube for the oils of the spice to dissolve in it, not too little to cause a painful drag. "I'll give you a tip, don't clench around it."

Easier said than done. Wakatoshi tried to stay as still and relaxed as he could, clenching his fists to let his legs go lax, but the thing - too slimy for his own good - didn’t stop feeling yucky until it ceased to move. It was wet, weirdly so, and Kiyoomi tapped the end with the pad of his finger before getting up, flyswatter in hand.

"You won't feel much at the beginning, then it will start to heat up." He gave another tentative swing in the air, making sure to weigh the thing in his arm before trying and use it. "Five minutes from now it will be hell, but it won't go worse than that." 

Wakatoshi closed his eyes and counted the taps: three, four five - the plastic patted both of his cheeks, back and forth in an attempt to aim safely. Then, as suddenly as it was gone, the first hit came down.

"Why are you getting punished?"

He shuddered at another spank, overlapping sting on the same patch of skin. As two consecutive licks spoiled that last bit of untainted white, his breath hitched and it cut the next sentence short. "Because I'm inattentive, and it caused you extreme distress-" 

"You aren't inattentive." Kiyoomi made sure to leave a pinker print, "You _acted_ inattentive."

All it took was one spontaneous twitch for Wakatoshi to feel the warmth he was warned about. It prickled really softly, but it was so foreign that he had to brace his fingers on the blanket. "It's the same thing…" he huffed, gaining another sharp sting to match the other side. 

"One, don't contradict me." Kiyoomi’s wrist flicked precisely, sharply, in a series of unpredictable blows that covered all of the visible skin. Wakatoshi obediently kept from clenching, but it was too late anyway: a warm tremor coursed through his nerves.

"Two," The raven counted, delivering a stronger spank that made Wakatoshi’s skin ripple, "it's not the same. You have to work on your behaviour at home, but you're not an inattentive person."

Impact force wasn’t necessary as the flyswatter stung plenty, enough to make Wkatoshi forget about his resolution for a precious moment that turned the ginger’s heat up to a sharp burn. 

"I apologize..." He rushed to say, only for the words to be lost in cotton.

Kiyoomi tapped the flexible tongue of the swatter against the reddened skin, granting a brief pause. "And I accept it, Wakatoshi."

The tempo of the slaps increased. Wakatoshi heaved out a breath as the small, slow licks of fire enveloped him, needing minimal friction for the stinging juice to seep further and ache in sensitive skin. One second after the other, it all burned hotter from the inside out.

“I will do better-” He choked out along with a soft whimper.

The flyswatter impacted on a particularly tender spot in a series of quick slaps, then stopped altogether.

In the room, Kiyoomi could only hear his heart and Wakatoshi’s panting. The bright pink warmth was hot, so much that when the raven extended a hand toward the skin, his silicone glove wasn’t enough to block out the radiating heat. Shivers gathered where his fingertips touched, smoothing the welted creases left by the implement. At the center the color was even, but at the sides - towards Wakatoshi’s lower back, hips, thighs - only the engraved figures stuck to the paler skin: little red imprints of the design on the swatter, ghosts of flowers and half formed butterflies.

Could have been endearing, if Wakatoshi wasn't clearly suffering the punishment. It had only been two minutes and the oil was finally doing half of its work, being absorbed by the sensitive tissue at an hellish pace.

It seeped faster as Kiyoomi resumed the spanking, bringing it to a crescendo that made Wakatoshi flinch around the ginger piece multiple times. Still, through half stifled sighs and muted yelps, he didn’t squirm.

He was trying everything in his power, anything to make his body fall limp and not aggravate the burn, but the finger kept getting squeezed by jolts as little as shivers. He could have ended it right there, he could have turned and asked for Kiyoomi to stop and his boyfriend would have pulled him in an embrace, but Wakatoshi did not surrender.

He was safe, because the man he loved most in the world was there, in charge, besides him, carefully lining up each hit not with the intentions of scalding, but to help melt that knot of guilt that otherwise would have engulfed the both of them.

Wakatoshi was safe, safe and cared for, and that meant that he could take it.

His cries were stifled, far from loud but now far from silent too, a precarious balance that risked to tip and spill at every other lick. It went on for minutes, and the burn rose until logic could be thrown out of the window: his body reacted on its own, bouncing in a restless dance that left him hiccuping, yet without any tears.

Kiyoomi smoothed a hand on his lower back, heart clenching at how his arms were flexing and openly squirming all over the sheets. Wakatoshi’s face was flushed of the darkest pink and he stared in the distance, glassy eyes blocked on the curtains of the balcony. His lower lip was quivering, parting from the other every now and then, stopping only as Kiyoomi caressed his back with an open drag of his hand. 

"Last ten. Will you count them for me?"

Wakatoshi sniffled. "Yes."

Kiyoomi spun the flyswatter to grip it the other way, this time to pat the flimsier plastic handle on the scalding bottom. He swatted it down without ceremonies, dull and probably not hurting much, but Wakatoshi suffered it plenty anyway as he obediently counted, voice getting more and more unsteady, muttering promises between number five and six.

"We're almost done." Kiyoomi reassured, then delivered the last blows as quickly as possible.

Wakatoshi hiccuped the numbers, whimpers never stopping even as the raven threw the flyswatter on the floor and scrambled to sit on the bed. "I'm here." He soothed, a hand gripping his opposite hip. "I'm taking it out, brace yourself."

A low lament escaped his lips when the ginger drove against his walls and out, ending its ride from Kiyoomi's hands to the inside of the bin. It left Wakatoshi sniffling and limp, with tears left to collect at the sides of his eyes in big drops threatening to spill - a sight that made Kiyoomi rush to take off his gloves and throw them away too. Hastily, he scooted back to the center of the bed and took his lover’s head in hands, guiding it to rest on his lap.

Wakatoshi meekly hugged his hips and finally let go, a river of salty tears wetting Kiyoomi’s shorts. He didn’t complain, but kept silent for a while, occasionally using a hand to soothe the hiccups with gentle caresses. "You were good, Toshi. So, so good." He could feel his face scrunch on his thigh at the praise, but that only encouraged Kiyoomi to pet him more, fingers playing with his hair. "You took the punishment so well, I'm proud of you."

He let him cry, keeping him close even if he wasn’t a fan of tears on his clothes. It wasn’t much, especially since he kissed that man on a daily basis.

Kiyoomi handed Wakatoshi a paper tissue for him to blow his nose - and finally lift his pretty face from his thighs. 

"How's the burn?"

"Still there…" Wakatoshi held his thumping forehead with a hand while the other sneaked behind him to touch the aching skin, trying to rub at least some of the sting away.

"It will fade on its own." Kiyoomi patted his cheek with cold fingers and got up, making quick work of discarding what wasn’t needed. He reached in the drawer to pull out a jar of cream and hand it to Wakatoshi. "All yours."

"Can I?"

"It's the prize for having kept your voice down at this hour of the night." This time, he felt the urge to pat his head before heading for the door. "I'll be back."

  
  


His hands, still damp from sweat and tense from the punishment, had a hard time gripping the lid, but when Wakatoshi was finally able to scoop out some cream and smear it on the ache, it felt so soothing that his mouth gaped for a second or two.

Kiyoomi returned shortly after, leaning on the bed to close the jar and hand him a wipe to clean his fingers. "You're…” He tripped on simple words for the haste of speaking them, “You’re forgiven, from my point of view."

Wakatoshi nodded. "Thank you. Mine too."

It was a relief - one of many, that night. Kiyoomi nodded back and took the wipe to throw it away, then patiently waited for his boyfriend to get his shorts on again before handing him a glass of water.

Wakatoshi gripped it with both of his hands. While his calm expression was back in place, his face was still flushed and his eyes were red and tired. Kneeling on the mattress, drinking in small sips, he really looked small.

"Don't leave a drop."

Obediently as always, he returned to his slow sipping while his boyfriend changed shorts and fixed the blankets for them.

Kiyoomi waited for him under the covers, watching from a distance as Wakatoshi tried to erase every sign of his pain: he got up on his own to put the glass away, splash some water on his face in the desperate attempt of fixing his face and only then turn back to the bed, crawling under the sheets with his stomach against the mattress. He pressed his forehead in the pillow.

“Well?” Kiyoomi suppressed a chuckle. "What are you doing there?" 

"What...?"

He rolled his eyes and got a bit closer. “You can rest on my shoulder.”

Wakatoshi seemed to blush again, but that sensation lasted very little: he turned off the light and got to Kiyoomi’s side, head resting against him.

"Thank you…" Wakatoshi muttered again.

Kiyoomi kept him closer with an arm. He would have wanted to answer, but tiredness kept him from forming words so he just planted a feeble kiss to the crown of his head.

And when Wakatoshi’s brown hair brushed against his neck, no critter came to mind - only the fragrance of his aftershave, somehow still there, somehow still engraved in his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!  
> I took days and days to write, plus multiple pauses to study for my exams, but this story kept coming for my dreams. I literally couldn't sleep until I finished it, so... here's that.  
> I'm probably going to take a brief pause from uploading since uni exams are pressing, but I'll still be here to read any piece of feedback you'd want to leave. It'd make my day <3
> 
> I'd like to thank the kind people on the server that hyped the work up and supported my ramblings. And also thanks Dear for having started the infamous ship conversation. I had fun writing that!  
> I just hope I did justice to characters I never wrote.
> 
> With love and best wishes for the new year,  
> Cain  
> Xoxoxo


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